Merlyn's Final Truth

The Herald of a New Age P3

Unedited

Arthur stared down at the scrolls in front of him as he sat in the council chamber, his vision blurring slightly as he stared down at his own messy scrawl. The sun was high in the sky, bearing down on the parchment, forcing him to squint as he wrote. His hand was cramping slightly, the twinge of pain making him wince as he tried to finish this damned speech. It was for some banquet or another, something about the flourishing prosperity of the kingdom, how marvelous Camelot had become under his rule. Still, sitting there alone, with only two guards stood silently behind him for company, the king couldn't quite bring himself to believe that the shallow words rung true.

He was rudely awakened from his despondency by a loud clatter of armour. Twisting in his hard, oak chair, he found one of his guards lying still on the ground, completely unmoving. As Arthur stood, his other guard fell, his helmet rolling across the floor.

Ah fuck.

"Look out!" That ghost of a voice whispered, her presence thick in Arthur's mind, even if she did not appear before him. "Behind you."

The king spun on his heel just in time to see Elyan step out from behind a column, a large crossbow in his hands pointed directly at Arthur. The king barely had time to throw himself out of the way of the bolt before it sailed past him, fixing itself in the chair behind him.

Scrambling back to his feet, Arthur grabbed his sword from his sheathe, barely having time to find his balance as Elyan discarded the crossbow and reached for his own blade.

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur cried, shuffling back slightly. He didn't want to harm Elyan, not when he had been such a loyal knight, but soon he would have little choice. Elyan did not follow him, simply staring at the king with a hatred that made all of Arthur's hair stand up on end.

And then, the king paused. It looked as if... No. Surely not. But he couldn't ignore what was in front of him. Elyan was soaked through, water gushing over his face, from his fingertips... Where was it coming from? The liquid pooled at his feet, creating a large puddle in the middle of the chambers.

"I must avenge my death." Elyan spoke, but the voice was not his. What was he talking about? He was not dead. Besides, he sounded almost like a child?

This was above Arthur's paygrade. As Elyan moved to strike, he parried the blow, his mind racing.

"What have you done to Elyan?" He questioned, trying to keep the fear from his voice. But Elyan- or rather- whatever was possessing Elyan- said nothing, launching into an attack that Arthur had difficulty in deflecting. He couldn't attack, not without harming Elyan. He didn't know what to do.

"Don't make me kill you. I don't want to kill you." He gasped in a short moment of respite, pushing Elyan away. The knight slammed into a column, but barely registered any sort of pain before he was back in front of Arthur, his blade arced towards his head.

Arthur ducked, sidestepped Elyan's sword for the final time before pushing the hilt of his blade between the knight's ribs with all the strength he could muster. Elyan fell, his sword clattering away from him;  Arthur raised his above the fallen knight, the point of his blade angled just above his heart. Maybe it was time to put him out of his misery.

"Stop! That's not the Elyan we know!"

It was that voice again. That righteous, good for nothing voice that acted as his decency in times like this. Part of him wanted to ignore it, but it was firmly quashed beneath the part that knew she was right.

He sheathed his sword, watching Elyan's disbelief as he scarpered away, fleeing the council chambers in the blink of an eye.

Arthur could only hope that he had made the right decision.